


The Strangest Things

by iammisscullen



Series: My Zarry Alphabet [4]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book Editor Zayn, Cover Illustrator Harry, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Secret Chatmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn had gotten different fruits daily for almost a few days now from a secret admirer. Then there’s this H bloke from his office that keeps on giving Zayn random fun facts and asks him for love advices. Zayn’s close-off life suddenly has two unknown characters barging on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strangest Things

**Author's Note:**

> Forever grateful for the help of two amazing people: [slytherakin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherakin/works) and [goldleaveswithholesinthem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/goldleaveswithholesinthem%0A), for always helping me out with this crazy AU. My stories would never be complete without your guidance and patient editing. I can never thank you enough. Massive thanks!
> 
> Though, all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Hope you like this one! Enjoy! :) xoxo

_F is for Fruit (because Flowers are so overrated)_

 

 

_you reached into my_ __  
_soul and rearranged_  
_the position of_  
_my bones. you rebuilt my_  
_ribcage so_  
_your heart could be_  
_home._

**-r.i.d.**

 

The red apple is staring at Zayn, its jasper skin definitely standing out amongst his grey and neutral coloured desk and things (he still has two stacks of files to be done with). He’s not sure what to do: to eat the apple or not to eat the apple?

Fuck Hamlet! But also, his brain remembers Snow White and then there’s the Fall of Adam and Eve.

Apples are not to be trusted. Period. Especially if he didn’t bought it and it just magically appeared on his working desk while he went to the loo.

He picks it up gingerly and his brain is screaming _Remember Snow White_ , over and over again.

Behind the apple an orange post-it states – in beautiful cursive: _I’ll wake you up with true love’s kiss. :) xx_

Okay, now shit just got real. Whoever sent Zayn the apple – accidentally or not – has Snow White reference and Zayn’s going to get poisoned. He’s going to die with no seven dwarves to kill his murderer. That doesn’t sound fair.

But then yesterday he received an orange – which he ate carelessly; and then there’s that pineapple the day before yesterday which came with a sponge because the cheeky bastard – whoever he or she is – watches Spongebob. Zayn loves it.

The apple still stares at Zayn as he slowly settles on his swivel chair – it creaks a little because the last editor was a huge man who broke the chair twice before he got transferred to _Little Brown_ in New York.

 _Is this apple from my Secret Fruit Santa?_ he wonders. Who even is messing with him to send him fruits daily?

He’s not so sure now about the _fruits_ because last week after receiving bananas for three consecutive days, he received an avocado on the fourth day. Isn’t avocado a vegetable?

The apple’s skin is shiny. Tempting! People die falling into temptation. It’s only Wednesday; is it okay to die before a weekend?

Definitely not. So, Zayn puts the apple inside his rucksack.

**

He should really start reading that new book his boss told him to edit, but it’s tempting to read _The Time Traveller’s Wife_ for the third time. So, he does.

He’s almost on Chapter 2 when his work chat on Skype beeps. It rarely happens at this time of the day because everyone is out at lunch and no one posts any complains or questions during this hour. Who could still be doing work at lunchtime?

Curious Zayn opens it.

_**catvincigogh: 911! SOME1 DCIDE A COLOUR 4 ME! SHOULD I GO W/ SEAL OR PEWTER??? –H xx** _

Zayn’s not even sure what colour it is so he Googles it and gets more confuse. These colours almost look the same. He’s no artist so he wouldn’t know. It sounds like Zayn’s Aunt Christine when she got married and couldn’t choose between kiwi and lime for her invitation card.

If he’s being honest, there’s little difference between the colours and the bloody guests won’t even know if she uses both.

But five minutes later, H sends the same message.

 _God! He’s annoying_ , is what Zayn thinks.

73% of Zayn feels annoyed with H for spamming – there’s a third message now – and the other 27% feels bad for H because no one has helped him yet.

Because Zayn was raised to be kind – H should thank Zayn’s mum – despite him trying to act stoic, he writes a reply to H privately. He blames it on H’s text technique that makes Zayn’s inner English Major cringe).

 _The Time Traveller’s Wife_ can wait. Zayn needs to educate someone.

**DJZM: I’m not really expert at colour, mate. But, if you’re going to ask me, I prefer seal.**

Zayn has only blinked twice and H’s already replying.

_**catvincigogh: tnx, m8!!! u’re a lyf saver. :) xx** _

Zayn’s eye just twitches at the spelling and everything present in H’s reply. But Zayn’s also been raised polite, so he doesn’t call H on it or tell him off or insult him even when that’s everything Zayn wants to do.

**DJZM: No problem, mate. Glad to be of help.**

He wants to put a smiley face at the end but that’s not him.

He minimises his Skype and starts to take his tuna sandwich out of his bag. He bought it from the coffee shop across his flat because he didn’t have time – he never has – to make one. He spent last night reading _The God of Small Things_ and woke up late and groggy.

 His Skype beeps and he opens it. It’s from H.

_**catvincigogh: did u knw that avocadoes r gud 4 ur skin??? xx** _

Zayn’s not sure what to make of that. He should ignore it and eat his sandwich; the faster he can finish it, the quicker he can read his book before lunchtime ends.

_**catvincigogh: & dark chocol8 cn lower blood pressure. xx** _

He stares at his screen, incredulous that H’s chatting him.

_**catvincigogh: hu knew, ryt??? i thot deyr only gud 4 victims of dementors. XD xx** _

He grins unconsciously. At least H has good tastes in books even if he’s a little bad at texting properly. Zayn’s reading everything twice before understanding them completely. It’s like hieroglyphics.

Zayn doesn’t want a conversation, though, he wants to eat his lunch so he can read. Maybe if he mentions lunch to H, the bloke will bug off. He needs to be casual and not just the  bluntly type: _I don’t care, yeah? I just want some peace and quiet with my book, so, fuck off!_ He can’t say that because he was raised to be polite.

**DJZM: Hahaha!**

**DJZM: Eating lunch.**

He puts it on separate messages because they’re different topics. That’s how it’s supposed to be done, if you ask Zayn’s opinion.

_**catvincigogh: hapi eatng!!! btw, i’m also eatng mine. i hve sum ceasar salad & den an apple 4 dessert. wat abt u??? xx** _

Okay, H shortcuts everything and puts too much marks. And what’s with the _xx_ thing? Zayn rolls his eyes on it all.

He hates H; frustrated that H doesn’t get Zayn’s attempt to exit the conversation. He mentally smacks himself and curses his 23 minutes past-self for answering H.

What Zayn wants to type: _Who cares about your fucking apple? I have one, too. Just leave me alone!_ But Zayn’s polite – or he was raised as one.

**DJZM: Tuna sandwich.**

Maybe he can try the whole one-sentence-reply thing. Maybe H will take a hint from that.

_**catvincigogh: omega oil is also gud 4 d heart. gud 4 u!!! :) xx** _

Zayn doesn’t reply anymore. He mutes his computer for the rest of lunchtime.

He finishes his lunch quickly and reads his book. And when he checks, H hasn’t written him back. It’s a good sign. Zayn doesn’t want to be bothered. He doesn’t need conversations because he has a lot to read.

**

Zayn opens his work Skype the next day while a pomegranate fruit sits on his desk. It has an orange post-it that states: _Be the Persephone to my Hades? xx_

So, Secret Fruit Santa is clearly a dork who reads Mythology and watches Spongebob. He smiles at that realisation. At least his secret admirer isn’t some dumb person who doesn’t know the difference between a ceasar salad and a niçoise salad.

_**catvincigogh: fun facts!!! apples, pears, cherries & strawberries r all mmbrs of d rose fmily!!! does it mean we r eatng flowers??? it’s weird dat i’ve eatn dem all but still not smelling lyk roses. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: peanuts cn b used 2 make dynamites!!! (O.O) no 1der a lot of ppl r allergc 2 peanuts. it’s really dedly. take caution nw. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: alliumphobia is d fear of garlic. i guess dis is wat vampires hve. lol!!! xx** _

And there’s more where that came from that makes Zayn curses the day – yesterday – he answers to H. What has he done? He needs to proofread five books for Monday and finish Cassandra Clare’s _City of Bones_.

He has no time at all.

_**catvincigogh: heeeeey. i still dnt knw ur name??? xx** _

Zayn’s nothing but polite, but at the same time he doesn’t feel like telling people his name. Some of them judges and he doesn’t want H to do that, because deep down – so deep, deep, deep down – Zayn loves that H is talking to him. No one has really tried to make a conversation with Zayn.

Most people find him intimidating with his pretentious fake glasses and permanent tattoos. So, even if he won’t admit it – not even at gunpoint – Zayn likes H trying to make a conversation with him.

He replies because he’s not at all endeared by H’s effort and silly fun facts, but because he was raised polite.

**DJZM: I don’t think eating a ton of apples or pears or cherries or strawberries will make you smell like roses.**

**DJZM: That’s awesome! Glad that I’m not allergic to peanuts, though.**

_**catvincigogh: mybe if dat happens my fart will start smelling lyk roses. XD xx** _

**DJZM: Vampires also have Heliophobia.**

_**catvincigogh: i’m not allergic 2 it either!!! #luckyme xx** _

_**catvincigogh: how dd u knw abt the sun phobia???xx** _

**DJZM: You can call me Z.**

**DJZM: If you fart, mate, I won’t come any closer. Don’t care if it’ll smell like roses or not. Fart is fart.**

_**catvincigogh: ZEEEED!!! i love it!!! r u a dj den??? cos mybe u r & ur dat bloke hu had d massive hit CLARITY. xx** _

Zayn shouldn’t really talk to H. He has books to read, work to finish, and more books to read. Having conversation means caring, and Zayn has no time for that.

_**catvincigogh: y r we evn talking abt farts??? (O.O) xx** _

**DJZM: I have this thing called Google. :)**

What even is he doing putting that smiley face? This is a useless conversation that’s not gaining him any educational information.

_**catvincigogh: ooooohhhh. hahahahaha!!! of course u google. :D wat else do u google??? i google cats most of the tym. xx** _

**DJZM: Not him. Sorry, mate. I’m just an ordinary person who loves to read books.**

**DJZM: What about you? Do you have a name?**

_**catvincigogh: i do book covers. & no i dnt sing, it’s not dat sort of cover. so wat’s ur fave book??? xx** _

_**catvincigogh: my name’s harry & i once workd on a bakery. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: whch colour is better? SAFFRON or YELLOW??? xx** _

_**catvincigogh: & dnt suggest gold. xx** _

**DJZM: New books to read, that’s what I Google.**

**DJZM: Does it mean you love cats? Like, do you have one?**

_**catvincigogh: i do hve a cat. his name’s monet. he’s black w/ swirls of white on his body. i was suppose 2 call him KNIGHT cos of his colour but well… xx** _

******

Zayn’s not supposed to care, he’s not supposed to make conversation; he’s supposed to read his books and mind his own business. But then, fruits aren’t supposed to show up every morning at his working desk.

It’s Monday and he’s getting two medium size pears.

He sets it aside for later since he’s learned after Week Two that the fruits are safe to eat. Well, that or he’s trying to gamble with death or food poisoning.

A lot has changed in such a short time and Zayn can’t quite wrap his head around it. He’s been talking to Harry a lot over the weekend. They’ve created a common ground in books, despite Harry’s only interest on books are their covers.

They both like to watch _Shadowhunters_ even when Zayn preferred the books over the series. At least the series had been given justice unlike the movie: _The Mortal Instruments._ So, that’s what they talk about: favourite character, favourite couple, favourite magic power, and theories about the story.

Zayn doesn’t try to spoil Harry’s fun by saying that Max Lightwood dies in the third book. He keeps it all quiet and doesn’t say that Alec and Magnus really did end up together, he just pretend that Alec’s going to find someone else.

He’s not sure when was the longest conversation he had with another person that’s not his family or relative. He’s not really a good conversationalist because he tends to analyse things as if he’s making a dissertation like he would to a book back in uni. It annoys people that Zayn categorises them depends on what they like or how they talk, etc. But that’s how he sees life: all arranged in category just like the people living it. Maybe that’s the Marxist part of him.

Deep down he knows what he is, which category he belongs to. Because Zayn knows he’s a bookworm – he’s not supposed to be making chats and sending text messages, instead he should be finishing his third book of the week: _Sins of the Innocent_.

_**catvincigogh: did i tell u dat dotty doesn’t want 2 let go of monet??? i’m gonna snd u d pics l8r. it was so cute, but it broke my heart. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: my mum’s planning on gettng another cat 4 dotty 2 play w/. she askd me 2 go w/ her this sat. i’m so xctd. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: i’m also hving trouble choosing btween ALIZARIN & POMEGRANATE. w/c colour wld do??? xx** _

Zayn tried to ignore Harry, but Harry’s a persistent little fucker, the kind who’ll probably throw you a birthday party even when you ask not to, because birthdays are weird, people celebrate with you and give you gifts for slowly dying. Or so Zayn thinks.

He’s not supposed to care but then he’s read too much angsty characters to know the emotions of someone being ignored. Like Hannah Baker in _Th13rteen Reasons_.

So, he talks to Harry. And contrary to Zayn’s belief, he actually doesn’t mind.

At the same time he doesn’t mind the sliced dragon fruit that appeared on his desk on Thursday morning with an orange post-it that states: _It’s almost April. It’s Dragon Season. :) xx_

So, Secret Fruit Santa also watches _Game of Thrones_. Zayn likes him or her more now.

_**catvincigogh: heeeey… i knw this is out of nowhere. but wat’s ur favour8 colour??? xx** _

**DJZM: Why?**

_**catvincigogh: mybe i’ll do a book cover 2 honour ur fave colour. xx** _

**DJZM: How can you even do that?**

_**catvincigogh: i’ll probably convnce d writer dat ur colour is d best suit 4 his/her cover. whatcha think??? xx** _

**DJZM: I think that’s illegal.**

_**catvincigogh: it’s not. :( it’ll b perfct. plus, if i pull dis off u’ll owe me ur first born. XD xx** _

**DJZM: I doubt it.**

_**catvincigogh: wanna bet??? xx** _

**DJZM: I don’t like gambling.**

_**catvincigogh: mr. nice guy aren’t we??? dat or ur just plain boring. jk! xx** _

And Zayn doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that he’s the most boring guy to ever walk the planet; always on schedule and loyal to his own routine, never letting anything or anyone in. Zayn just never thought anyone would come along and break down the walls he expertly put around him.

Because Zayn doesn’t have time to make friends when the people around him – even the characters he reads about – does nothing but betray each other and cause each other pain. If that sort of living is boring, never risking your own heart or putting yourself out there, then so be it. He doesn’t need that sort of fragile relationships.

He doesn’t.

**DJZM: My mum just happened to raise me well.**

_**catvincigogh: ouch. xx** _

**DJZM: No offense to your mum.**

_**catvincigogh: idk, m8. i’ll tell her wat u said & she cn judge hrself. xx** _

**DJZM: That’s not fair.**

_**catvincigogh: anyways. wat’s ur fave colour??? xx** _

But despite Zayn’s belief on most of humanity, he allows himself to converse with Harry because inside this world online, Zayn’s normal; he’s not the Zayn whom most people see as cold person. This chat with Harry, he’s not Zayn the stoic kid who’d rather go home and read than mourn for the death of the classroom rabbit.

Talking to Harry makes Zayn feels like he has a heart, though he hasn’t used it for a while now.

**DJZM: Green.**

_**catvincigogh: same colour as my eyes!!! wat’s d colour of ur eyes btw???xx** _

**DJZM: Brown.**

_**catvincigogh: same colour as my crush. xx** _

**DJZM: You have a crush?**

_**catvincigogh: yeeeep!!! xx** _

Zayn can imagine Harry squealing. Well, technically he can’t because he doesn’t know what Harry looks like except that he has green eyes. They’ve been talking all this time about periodic elements, the life of elephants, global warming and the upcoming New York Fashion Week but they still don’t know what each other look like.

Not that Zayn minds because these online chats with Harry seems like almost of a fairy tale story to Zayn. It’s an intangible thing that will forever be constant no matter what happens in real life. And Zayn doesn’t know that he wants it so bad, wants this normal conversation where he’s not afraid he’ll sound cold, or if he’s too intimidating to look at.

He likes to preserve this moment – this relationship with Harry.

**DJZM: Really? What’s she like?**

_**catvincigogh: it’s actually a he. xx** _

Zayn didn’t see that coming. Doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

**DJZM: That’s great. He’s a lucky person. :)**

And Zayn means it. He’s happy for Harry.

_**catvincigogh: u think so??? xx** _

**DJZM: I do.**

_**catvincigogh: tnx, m8. :) i’m so nervous tbh. xx** _

**DJZM: Why?**

_**catvincigogh: cos i haven’t talkd 2 him. xx** _

**DJZM: You should.**

_**catvincigogh: wat do i tell him anyway??? xx** _

**DJZM: The weather. LOL!**

_**catvincigogh: (-.-) u’re not helping. xx** _

**DJZM: Oops. Sorry.**

_**catvincigogh: i’m also sorta stalkng him. dnt tell any1. xx** _

**DJZM: Stalking? Wow. That’s sinister, Haz.**

He typed and sent it before he can even think about it. Zayn regrets it, it sounds too forward to be calling Harry by a moniker when they’re not officially friends.

Maybe they’re friends but only in Zayn’s perspectives because it’s hard to tell if someone is a legitimate friend or some temporary acquaintance nowadays. He just prays that Harry doesn’t notice it because it’d be embarrassing for Harry to think that he’s assuming.

_**catvincigogh: i knw. he’s just interestng. lyk d nxt thng i knw i’m memorising his office hours & schedule by heart. if u knw him, u’d understand y he’s so 1derful. he’s reli amazng. he’s so so so brave too. & mind u, he luvs books lyk u. u’ll probably get along & gush abt murakami. :) xx** _

_**catvincigogh: ps, i luv d nickname. :D <3 tnx. i feel so special, lyk we’re d best of friends. i lyk dat so much. :)) xx** _

His breath is caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do with the overwhelming feeling of someone in gratitude to you. He feels like his heart grew thrice its normal size. So, this is what it feels like to make someone happy.

Zayn stares at the monitor. Once and then twice. And thrice, for good measure because he can’t believe he made someone smile and feel special. Harry’s honest – too honest for his own good – so, Zayn knows it’s always genuine when it comes from Harry.

**DJZM: That’s still creepy, mate.**

_**catvincigogh: u think so??? xx** _

**DJZM: Yes.**

It really is. And he wants to take his Secret Fruit Santa as an example but he’s not ready to share that part of him yet. What will Harry think about him accepting fruits from a stranger? Harry will probably tell Zayn that he’d ought to call the police because stalking is bad – Zayn had advise so to Harry.

He should practise what he preached.

_**catvincigogh: if i talk 2 him. wat should i say anyways??? xx** _

_**catvincigogh: & no more of dat weather. (>.<) xx** _

_**catvincigogh: make sure it’s gud advice, ok??? i ned 2 impress him cos he luks smart & everything. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: lyk he’s literally smart becos he’s got glasses on. Xx** _

_**catvincigogh: & dey luk so effing gud on him!!! xx** _

_**catvincigogh: another ps. u’re not allowed 2 steal him from me. i call dibs on him 1 st. xx** _

Zayn laughs at that. He can’t imagine himself stealing Harry’s crush.

He doesn’t get crushes. He doesn’t because his qualification had been set so high, no thanks to book characters.

If he’s a girl, he’d probably be dreaming of a prince on a white horse to come and sweep him off his feet. But he’s a realist; things don’t end up like they do in books where broken characters meet and fix each other. That’s not how it works in the real world.

So, Zayn had accepted long ago that his soulmate is stuck somewhere in an alternate universe where happy-endings exist and people tie a hundred yellow ribbons on a branch of an old oak tree.

**DJZM: You said he loves books. Ask him about his favourite writer. And since he seems like a literature enthusiast, you can impress him by poetry. Reciting a few romantic lines won’t be bad either.**

_**catvincigogh: omg!!! u’re a lyfsaver!!! xx** _

**DJZM: That’s what you told me before as well. When we first met (sort of).**

_**catvincigogh: did i??? haha!!! xx** _

**DJZM: Yes.**

He’s smiling and it feels new. But he likes it.

_**catvincigogh: anyways, i just wanna remnd u in case u dnt knw. U R A LYFSAVER!!! xx** _

**DJZM: Hahaha! I’m surprised you haven’t thought about doing that before.**

_**catvincigogh: i hve thot of ways. settled 4 stalkng (slash lookng from a distance & pining silently) becos dat sounded less intimidating. i’d probably stutter. xx** _

**DJZM: Don’t be so pessimistic.**

_**catvincigogh: i’d stutter becos i’m so nervous. & den faint. xx** _

**DJZM: You’ll be great. Just smile at him.**

_**catvincigogh: i’ll charm him w/ my dimples. lol!!! xx** _

He doesn’t know why but he mentally notes it down.  Harry has green eyes, and now he has dimples. The only physical thing he knows about Harry. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s okay because Harry’s a fantastic person.

**DJZM: Yes. Use those dimples and charm his pants off.**

_**catvincigogh: ok. i’ll try dat. tnx 4 ur help. so so so much!!! xx** _

**DJZM: No problem, mate.**

_**catvincigogh: so, who’s ur fave writer??? xx** _

**

Fifty-seven days down into talking with Harry about everything and nothing in specific, Zayn had decided to be brave and tries to eat lunch for the first time in their office cafeteria. He gets a table in the corner and starts to eat his vegetarian lasagne which he baked himself last night. He’s not a good cook but thanks to Harry’s guidance, he made his first ever lasagne edible.

He also finds the vegan lasagne delicious despite his indifference for vegetables. And for dessert, the one huge slice of ripe papaya from Secret Fruit Santa, awaits for him.

He’s chewing his first mouthful of his food and he’s interested to look up. Across him from the room is a vending machine full of sweets and biscuits; another one stands next to it full of different beverages. He thinks that they should put a vending machine for books because that would be unique. Not that there is a scarcity of books, but just something to pique people’s interest.

He’s scanning the room slowly as he takes his third fork of lasagne. There’s John from his department with another guy he doesn’t know, and two more blokes from a different department. The group seems to be talking about _Star Wars_ since he heard ‘empire’ and ‘lightsaber’ thrice.

Next to the group’s table, ten o’clock to him, sits this bloke with pink cotton sleeved – both sleeves are pulled to his elbow – shirt designed with huge, white dots. He’s got two of the upper buttons open. Who the fuck even wear shirts like that? Is he even allowed to dress like that? Isn’t there a dress code?

Zayn feels too formal in his ironed crisp white collared polo and black trousers. He’s often told off for not wearing tie before, but his superior got tired because ties are not Zayn’s style. It’s already an arse trying to look business-like.

If he can get away like that unknown bloke, he’ll probably just wear a shirt and jeans to work every day. But then, he won’t be blending in like he wanted.

Zayn stares for a while because he can’t get over that this bloke gets away with their dress code. He wonders which department _Jean Valjean_ (because he’s a deviant) belongs.

The bloke’s hair is so damn long it reminded Zayn of Rapunzel, of course that’s a hyperbole but he can’t think of anything to categorise _Jean Valjean_. And he should probably stop calling the stranger _Jean Valjean_ because it’s too long for a codename for someone.

The stranger – Zayn shall settle on calling him Curly because of the stranger’s hair that seems to be taking most of his personality – is eating alone. Curly’s eating some sort of green salad that Zayn frowns at. Is he the only one eating fish and chips nowadays because everyone seems to be so attached to their kale?

And Zayn should also remind himself that he ought to look away because Curly’s about to look up from his food. But Zayn’s too slow to process what’s happening, too new to this idea of observing – stalking – people (he should ask Harry how to do this stalking thing properly to avoid embarrassment or worse, false accusation).

Zayn’s breath gets caught in his throat when Curly catches him staring, and it’s not the sort that looked nonchalant, but blatantly obvious. It’s definitely that idiomatic expression about getting caught red handed.

He should also look away but he can’t, instead he’s frozen and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s so awkward and embarrassing and Zayn wishes the earth to swallow him whole or maybe edit the last ten seconds so he can avert his gaze.

He counts backwards from ten, not blinking nor breathing. Slowly, Curly gives him a small smile, dimples making two cute craters on his cheeks. And Zayn’s really not sure what to do, doesn’t usually do this sort of encounter but he smiles because his instincts went autopilot on him that very second.

After the short smiles, Zayn looks down on his tupperware and never dared look up as he finishes his meal. He’s got his full of interaction that can sustain him till his lifetime, so he’d rather not repeat it, thank you very much.

_**catvincigogh: U WOULND’T BELIEVE WAT HAPPND 2 ME YESTRDAY!!! xx** _

**DJZM: Let me guess. You won the lottery?**

_**catvincigogh: nt quite. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: MY CRUSH SMILD @ ME!!! LYK LITERALLY SMYL!!! xx** _

Zayn’s happy for Harry, but at the same time there’s something at the bottom of his stomach that didn’t like it. But he should be happy. He forces to be happy for him.

**DJZM: That’s great! :)**

_**catvincigogh: I AM LITRALLY OVR D MOON!!! xx** _

_**catvincigogh: A SMYL!!! xx** _

_**catvincigogh: HE SMYLD @ ME!!!xx** _

_**catvincigogh: @ ME!!! xx** _

_**catvincigogh: i feel lyk i’m going 2 combust w/ happiness. xx** _

And Zayn’s going to combust as well. Combust with 14% envy.

This is all new to him, this feeling of envy and jealousy mixing up inside him like strong liquor. He hasn’t felt this in a long time, he almost forgets what it’s like to have envy running through his bloodstream. It’s almost like feeling braille under his fingertips and trying to learn what the characters mean.

**DJZM: Happy for you.**

He lies because his honesty might break something between him and Harry, and Zayn doesn’t want that. He likes Harry, more than he should.

It’s just a crush.

This is what a crush feels like, right?

He’ll get over it. He needs to get over it because Harry likes someone else. And Zayn should respect that.

**

It’s a Friday, and Zayn receives a whole bag of black grapes from Secret Fruit Santa with a note:   _Have fun on the weekends. :) xx_

_**catvincigogh: how cum u nver share ur luv lyf??? xx** _

**DJZM: Because there is nothing to share.**

_**catvincigogh: reli??? doubt it. bet every1 worships d ground u walk on. xx** _

**DJZM: Hahaha! That’d be disturbing.**

_**catvincigogh: but seriously??? xx** _

**DJZM: Nothing.**

_**catvincigogh: how so??? xx** _

**DJZM: I don’t know.**

He answers instead of ‘ _it’s because I never cared for other people before and now I do, I care for you but it’s not important because you like someone else._ ’

_**catvincigogh: & all dis tym i was so hapi abt my potential luv lyf. i’m sori. xx** _

**DJZM: What are you sorry for?**

_**catvincigogh: well, 4 makng u listen 2 my boring crush stories. & i feel bad 4 u. xx** _

Sometimes, Zayn hates Harry for being too honest.

**DJZM: So, any progress?**

_**catvincigogh: well, i talkd 2 him yestrday. xx** _

**DJZM: That’s good.**

_**catvincigogh: he’s reli amazng. he has a beautiful voice. deep & rich & smooth. lyk chocol8. :D xx** _

**DJZM: That’s good.**

_**catvincigogh: & he smiled @ my joke. did u knw dat wen he smyls his eyes crinkle & his mouth forms in2 dis lovely heart shape dat makes me melt. xx** _

**DJZM: That’s good.**

He has to repeat it because he wants Harry to see that it’s not good at all. Well, not good for Zayn’s jealous heart. But of course, Harry won’t be able to tell it over text because Zayn should mix his message with a sarcastic voice to penetrate his vague message of envy.

Maybe Zayn should tell Harry about the joke Curly told him last Wednesday over the vending machine about skeletons being cowards because they got no guts; because Zayn can be uptight and serious, but he’s also funny. Yes, he can be funny too.

But he shuts his mouth, doesn’t type anything, and lets Harry explain every single detail about his crush’s smile. For Zayn was raised to be polite. And at the same time he doesn’t want to ruin Harry’s happiness.

**

There are three kiwis on top of Zayn’s table when he arrives at his cube. Accompanies the kiwis is an orange post-it that says: _Do you like having secret little rendezvous? Xx_

And maybe that’s the sort of distraction Zayn needs.

_**catvincigogh: MY CRUSH JUST AGREED 2 HVE A D8 W/ ME!!! LYK 4 REALS!!! Xx** _

Game over.

There goes Zayn’s chance. He should have told Harry that he likes him before Harry had the courage to ask his crush on a date.

He can’t ask Harry not to go. Not when Harry’s so excited and over the moon.

_**catvincigogh: BIG PRBLEM!!! xx** _

_**catvincigogh: WAT AM I GONNA WEAR??? Xx** _

 As Harry continues to fret over his outfit, Zayn’s trying to figure out his feelings. Yes, he’s jealous but it’s his own fault for being too slow.

He’s not supposed to wallow in his own self-disappointment. No, he’s going to pick himself up and read _The Fault in Our Stars_ or _The Great Gatsby_ because maybe he’s a masochistic prick who can’t get over a petty little crush.

A crush that could have been more, if only Zayn wasn’t so close-off.

Yes, he’s going to read _I Capture the Castle_ again tonight to succumb to his own self-loathe and wasted _What if_ ’s.

**

It’s a Sunday. Zayn had agreed to meet Secret Fruit Santa in Nero at Piccadilly at around one o’clock. And thank god for spring because it’s not raining outside.

_**catvincigogh: evry tym u lick a stamp, ure consumng 1/10 of a calorie** _ **. xx**

_**catvincigogh: butterflies taste w/ their feet. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: honey is d only food dat doesn't spoil. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: i am so nervous, im practically peeing n my jeans. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: i dont evn knw wat shirt 2 wear!!! help??? xx** _

_**catvincigogh:zeeeeddddd??? r u der??? xx** _

_**catvincigogh: i ned u 2 help me dcde. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: pls. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: coke was orignally green. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: intellignt ppl hve more zinc & copper n their hair. xx** _

Those were the messages he had woke up to. He’s not sure if he’s going to feel sorry for Harry or to be endeared. He’s going to choose to be upset for himself because that could have been him and Harry.

**DJZM: On a scale of 1 to 10, how nervous are you?**

_**catvincigogh: 101!!! ( & no, it’s not dalmatians) xx** _

**DJZM: LOL!**

_**catvincigogh: stop laughng. u ddnt help me. :( xx** _

**DJZM: Sorry about that.**

_**catvincigogh: wat were u doing anywy??? xx** _

**DJZM: Sleeping in.**

_**catvincigogh: ure forgiven. xx** _

**DJZM: Wow. That was fast.**

_**catvincigogh: i respct sleep 2o u knw. xx** _

**DJZM: Good to know.**

_**catvincigogh: starfish dont hve brains. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: polar bears r left handd. xx** _

**DJZM: What’s with all the fun facts?**

_**catvincigogh: i ned a distraction. xx** _

**DJZM: Is that all I am now?**

_**catvincigogh: u knw ure not. u r my best of friend. xx** _

**DJZM: Right.**

_**catvincigogh: any plans 2day??? xx** _

**DJZM: Not really.**

He’s walking out of the tube now. The street is busy, normal Saturday midday.

_**catvincigogh: i dnt feel so gud. xx** _

**DJZM: You’ll be fine.**

_**catvincigogh: idk. i feel lyk im gonna fail. & he’s not going 2 lyk me now. he’ll think im an idiot & nver talk 2 me again. xx** _

**DJZM: So negative. Chill.**

He’s trying to cross Regent St. now. He’s wondering if he could grab some pizza at Pizza Hut before he heads at Nero’s. He’s not late anyway.

_**catvincigogh: mybe i shldnt do dis. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: lyk… f i mess dis up, im branded 4 yrs. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: & dis fairy tale wld end & i’ll nver get my happly evr aftr. xx** _

And maybe this is the sign that Zayn had been waiting for. _What if_ Harry wasn’t made to meet his date today, and Zayn must take this opportunity to be brave and sweep Harry off his feet before Harry’s unknown crush does.

**DJZM: Where are you now?**

_**catvincigogh: y??? xx** _

**DJZM: Just answer the question, Haz.**

_**catvincigogh: victoria. y??? xx** _

He’s almost there, just in front of Waterstones. He can already see Nero from across the street, and he wonders if his Secret Fruit Santa is sitting by the window now, looking at the street and waiting for Zayn. Like, if Secret fruit Santa can now see Zayn, stopping on his tracks and turning away – walking back towards the tube.

Zayn feels bad for Secret Fruit Santa because all of his/her effort is going to end up in vain since Zayn’s choosing to be selfish and follow his heart for once; he’s going to risk his could-be-future relationship with Secret Fruit Santa for an unrequited love with Harry.

He must have not read enough books to know that he’s being irrational.

**DJZM: Where in Victoria?**

_**catvincigogh: @ starbucks near d station. xx** _

_**catvincigogh: y??? xx** _

**DJZM: Stay where you are. I’m on my way.**

He puts his mobile in his jean pocket and takes the tube again. His feet seem to have grown wings because he feels like he’s floating with every step. And as he hurries down the stairs to catch the next train to Green Park, he can’t stop the tremble in his hand that when he got on the train he holds tightly to the cold metal pole just so he has something to do with his hands.

He’s getting off at Green Park to switch trains for Victoria. He’s excited and nervous at the same time. He’s finally going to meet Harry.

The train’s door is closing and he’s trying to guess what Harry looks like. Does he have a beard? Glasses (like Harry Potter)? Or maybe he’s ginger like the prince.

He holds on to the cold metal again just to assure himself that this is real, to ground him to be calm because as much as Zayn is thrilled to see Harry, he’s also terrified. What if Harry’s expectation of him doesn’t match up to the real him?

He’s already climbing the stairs when he realises that he’s being impulsive and stupid. He told Harry that he wants to meet, but he hasn’t checked his mobile to see if Harry had agreed as well.

He stops dead on his track, the other commuters careen around him, others are glaring because he’s in the way. But he has long practised not to give a fuck.

He needs to check his phone. The small iPhone suddenly feels heavy in his pocket because he can feel his knees buckling at its mere weight – well, figuratively that is.

What was he thinking jumping into this without a plan? Stories always have plots, which is how Zayn can predict what’s going to happen next. But he’s diving into this situation without testing the depth of the water. And Zayn’s a bad swimmer.

His phone beeps and his stomach drops. That must be Harry.

He gets to the top of the stairs and takes out his phone. There’s a message from Harry. He’s already sweating and he thinks he might faint. This is harder than finding out that Caleb betrays Tris and their family.

He doesn’t think he’s breathing as he unlocks his phone, fingers shaking.

_**catvincigogh: im wearng a neon orange beanie. c u soon!!! :) xx** _

Suddenly, Zayn’s eleven again and he’s petrified on confessing to Neza that he likes her. But nothing beats the relief that washes over him as she answers: _I like you too, Malik_. And Zayn can breathe normally again.

It must really be his day because the stars are aligning and this is the message from the higher ups that Zayn should go for it. Sweep Harry off his feet and make him fall in love a la Jace and Clary.

It doesn’t take him forever to get to Starbucks. He can’t recount the steps he took because everything is a blur. Time didn’t stop but Zayn neglected its existence, just like he did to everyone around him.

He doesn’t remember his walk to Starbucks but there he is outside its door, the smell of coffee wafting all around him. And usually, the smell of coffee brings him joy, one of the many things that he likes in life; but right now, the scent of it nauseates him.

He goes inside the shop, feeling the cold of the glass door that he pushes. It’s almost the same temperature as his sweaty hands. He can’t stop the bubbling terror in the pit of his stomach that encourages him to run.

The warmth of the inside gives him a bit of comfort but it wasn’t enough to slow down the fast beating of his heart. Zayn had never been good with these sort of situations, there are times where he forwards confrontation on the movies that he watch because he can’t deal with it; sometimes he takes hours just to flip on the next page of a book where the major character dies. Climax had never been Zayn’s forte.

 But he had managed to come _here_ , he tells himself that. Maybe that can be enough.

He looks around the, checks the people on the table for someone to be wearing a neon orange beanie. There isn’t one.

Was Harry pranking him? But Harry’s not cruel.

As he searches for the sign again, his eyes dart towards a familiar bloke. It’s Curly, the one from the cafeteria whom Zayn had noticed a lot of times to be wearing weird printed shirts to work. But today he’s dressed up normally, a red plaid long sleeve – all buttoned up, much to Zayn’s disbelief, as Curly had often showed off his marbled chest on other days.

Maybe he can talk to Curly while he waits for Harry, make more friends or ask Curly if he had seen someone with an orange neon beanie inside the shop. That doesn’t sound bad either.

He walks towards him, Curly clearly hassling something in his hands under the table. Maybe he’s texting or something. Curly doesn’t notice Zayn’s presence yet, so in case Zayn wants to run the other way because he’s scared of small talks, he can.

He’s a table away from Curly when the bloke takes his one hand under the table and then another one. Zayn stops on his track, eyes going wide like saucers… because this is ridiculous!

In Curly’s hand is a bright orange beanie and he’s putting it on.

Zayn just stares, incredulous at the chances that Curly is Harry – that Harry is Curly. The different past instances that he saw Curly around passes through his head in fast forward. All those times, he’s been staring at Harry. It almost felt like he knew him but at the same time, not really.

He’s not ready for this. He wants to creep back into his flat and read a book with a summary to match the story because he can’t take anymore plot twist. It’s weird, really, for Zayn to mould Curly and Harry together into one person.

Curly’s a little rebel who looks like a rockstar with his outfit and his hair and tight, skinny jeans. In Zayn’s head, Harry has glasses because Harry’s a dork like Zayn who loves fun facts and cats. It just doesn’t add up right that these two people are the same.

A tiny voice in his head – it almost sounds like his mum, maybe it’s her after all – tells him not to judge the book by its cover.

And because Zayn was raised to be polite, he can’t just leave now or demand to change the Harry that he sees because it doesn’t match the Harry he had imagine in his head.

Why is he even complaining? Curly’s really cute and sweet and he didn’t call off Zayn for staring too much that one time at the cafeteria. It’s still _his_ Harry who knows that pineapples have bromelain enzymes that breaks down protein on meat and on human tongue.

This is nothing but a twisted coincidence that’s probably going to be ignored by George Martin if Zayn’s life is a novel.

‘Harry,’ he calls once he’d managed to compose himself and pulls his sense together. He goes for a weak smile to hide the way that his hands shake and distract him from the beads of sweat that forms at his temple. He’s never doing this again.

Curly – Harry – looks up. And as when he does, his eyes grow huge with disbelief and shock and fear and something else that Zayn can’t name.

Zayn widens his smile because it’s the only confidence he can fake at the moment. Why do these seem easy on books?

‘Zayn,’ Harry replies, eyes still wide that Zayn can’t help noticing how green they are. He’s so stiff and tense, too.

And maybe it should bother Zayn that Harry’s not happy to see him; definitely not excited to see him either because Harry’s looking at him like he’s seeing a ghost.

Okay. This really is a mistake. He didn’t reach Harry’s expectation either. And Zayn’s ready to hear Harry’s insulting remark, _‘you’re not white’_ because that’s how it had been. It’s always because the colour of his skin, his ancestry, his name, his race.

‘Zayn,’ Harry says again, getting paler by the minute and he’s even barely breathing that it makes Zayn nervous.

‘I know I’m different than you have expected,’ Zayn clarifies painfully. He hates that he feels embarrass about the colour of his skin, but he hates it more that it’s Harry that’s making him like this. He’s hurt. ‘And this is a mistake,’ he mutters and turns to leave because he’d rather sulk about this with a good book than bluntly see and feel Harry’s disgust towards him.

But Harry grabs him by the wrist, his grip so tight Zayn winces a bit.

He glares at Harry of course. How dare he physically hurt Zayn?

 Zayn was about to tell Harry off or maybe shove the other man’s hand off of him; but his plan melts as he sees Harry’s tortured expression, as if Zayn’s the one being rude.

‘I can’t believe you’re here.’ There’s still pain in his voice, but there’s also another emotion that Zayn can’t decipher that lies underneath the words. ‘Please stay.’

Although Zayn was raised polite, he refuses to be treated like a pariah – especially by Harry, whom he had trusted to be different.

‘Please,’ Harry begs, probably sensing Zayn’s firm decision on leaving. ‘I can explain. It’s not what you think.’ He’s speaking too quickly, one hand gesturing the feelings his words can’t hold. ‘I promise, I didn’t know you’re Zed… ’

Zayn’s mind focuses on that _one_ thing. He repeats the sentence over and over again inside his head trying to grasp the meaning behind it.

_…I didn’t know you’re Zed._

What is Harry saying?

_…I didn’t know you’re Zed._

What does he mean?

_…I didn’t know you’re Zed._

He’s not sure why Harry’s using that to appease him.

‘Zayn?’ Harry’s calling him, the worry is plain in his voice.

And it clicks in his head like clockwork. The lightbulb is on and Zayn can see.

‘I didn’t mean to be stalker-ish,’ Harry drawls on.

Harry knows his name. _His_ name: Zayn. He didn’t tell Harry his name once on their conversation since Harry had settled with the nickname: Zed.

Stalker-ish. The word scars Zayn’s brain as he puzzles it all together. And as one piece fits next to another, it’s getting clearer and he’s seeing the big picture.

‘You’re my Secret Fruit Santa,’ Zayn states as realisation dawn to him.

Harry’s gawks back like he’s also trying to make sense of what Zayn is saying. But he’s not slow to catch up on Zayn’s rambling, so he blinks thrice before he understands what the other man meant. He gives the raven haired man a shy smile.

‘But you’re here,’ Zayn points out. ‘You were supposed to meet me at Nero’s in Piccadilly.’

Harry deflates at that and let go of Zayn’s hand like it burned him. Curly looked like Zayn spoiled him the ending of a Game of Thrones episode.

‘Why are _you_ in Victoria, _Harry_?’ He hisses his name and sits down at the vacant chair opposite Harry.

The other man looks up from his sulking and puts his hands on the table as he fiddles with them deliberately to think of the right explanation. And Zayn hopes Harry has a good reason that he ditched their rendezvous.

‘Look,’ he leans his forearms at the table and makes eye contact with Zayn, ‘I got scared, okay? I know who I was going to meet and I got scared. I keep thinking that I can’t be up to par with your standards.’ Zayn raises an eyebrow of disbelief. Harry chuckles without humour. ‘You’re intimidating.’

Zayn frowns at that. Not the best compliment.

Harry flushes, embarrass by Zayn’s discomfort at the adjective. ‘In a good way,’ he amends. ‘You’re like a fucking model for Armani suits _every_ day. And I don’t know how to deal with that when I can’t even wear a suit to save my life because I never looked good on them.’ He runs a hand over his face. ‘To be honest, I’m seating here in front of you but I’m completely pissing meself off because I can’t believe you’re here and we’re talking.’

He manages a smile because that’s Harry right there; the honest Harry that will tell Zayn exactly what he’s thinking. Too honest for his own good.

It’s peculiar to be hearing Harry talk because Zayn had a different voice in his head, not this deep and sultry drawl that Curly is sounding.

‘What about you,’ Harry begins. ‘Why are _you_ here?’

Zayn clears his throat, embarrass by feeling like he’s less of a hypocrite than Harry is. He needs to remind his self-righteous that he had ditched as well. He looks down at his hands on his lap, itching for a book to hold because that’s easy; he knows how to do that. But not _this_.

 ‘Well…’ He clears his throat again, wishing that he had something to drink to lubricate the words out of his mouth. ‘You see, I tried to weigh two unknown strangers this morning, both very close to me. But the problem was, I only have one heart.’ He licks his lips, feeling the Harry’s stare on him but he’s not matching the other guy’s gaze. ‘So, I need to let go of the other.

‘And I did.’ He looks up and meets Harry’s worried – but hopeful – eyes. And he smiles at him to erase that anxiousness in Harry’s face. ‘I choose you.’

Harry beams at him, so wide it dazzles Zayn and makes his heart grow fonder because only Harry can smile like that: so pure and real and beautiful.

Zayn aches a bit at Harry’s smile, he’s responsible for that wonderful glow etched on Harry’s face. Harry looks at him like he’s given the man the key of the universe. And no one had ever stared at Zayn like that, he didn’t know someone else other than his family will be able to look at him with so much adoration and fondness.

He’s unarmoured by Harry’s belief and trust in him.

‘It’s a good thing you get the best of both worlds then,’ Harry comments and winks at Zayn.

‘Stop quoting Hannah Montana,’ Zayn retorts.

Harry laughs at that, loud and gorgeously – colouring with genuine that Zayn joins along; because their situation is serendipity in a nutshell. And this is not a novel, this is real life and it still happens as if it was written. Zayn doesn’t mind this at all because this is better than any story he had read, has more plot twist than any Sherlock episode he had watched.

‘So, did you know that sniffing tangerine oil can make one less lethargic,’ Harry states like the pretentious Fact Master that he proclaims himself to be. He smiles at Zayn, dimples caving his cheeks beautifully; green eyes dancing with glee. ‘I’ll probably send you a tangerine on Monday.’

Zayn laughs again. ‘Okay,’ he replies. ‘Or we can eat lunch together.’

Harry’s eyes lit up like a Christmas light. ‘Is that a date?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Zayn replies that extinguishes Harry’s excitement. He chuckles at the other person’s reaction. ‘I’m still expecting to be wooed by Hemmingway or Shakespeare, yeah?’

Harry smiles impishly. ‘I was actually going with Cummings.’ He gives a wanton wink at Zayn that the other man laughs at.

‘What now?’ Zayn asks, not believing that he’s getting the best of both worlds. And he didn’t know it’s possible to be _this_ excited in real life sans books.

‘I don’t know,’ Harry answers, can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.

And Zayn believes him. But who cares, right? Zayn most of his entire life in a series of plan and plot: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and denouement. Now, books always finish with _The End_ but Zayn had learned in Fiction Class that endings aren’t endings, they’re denouements. The story continues in some alternate universe.

How does the plot go in that invisible pages? Who knows. It’s all up to the reader to imagine.

‘Sounds like a plan, eh?’ Zayn says.

 

_Fin._

           

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) xoxo
> 
> P.S.  
> Avocado is a fruit. Don't mind Zayn. It was a funny ref from that tweet he sent Jurassic era ago about calling Avocado a veggie. :D


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